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Posts Tagged ‘Experimental Cinema’

The Mysterious Videos of Bill Domonkos

Thursday, July 14th, 2016

A still from Domonkos’ Beyond The Blue Horizonclick here, or on the image above, to view this short video.

The video work of Bill Domonkos is at once mysterious and sublime, mixing 1940s and 50s pop culture with 21st century surrealism. As Michael Hardy notes in The Boston Globe, “Spooky. Hypnotic. Lush. Witty. Sublime. The extraordinary films of San Francisco-based artist Bill Domonkos call up a descriptive vocabulary that never seems to capture the fluidity, the aesthetic metamorphoses, of the director’s vision.” That’s a fitting enough description for starters, but what Domonkos does with found footage and editorial techniques is truly remarkable, creating an entirely new world in which the unreal is real, and the most extraordinary images and juxtapositions seem entirely natural.

Of his work, Domonkos himself notes, “I view my work as a collision and recombination of ideas. My process unfolds gradually and spontaneously—using found materials such as archive film footage, photographs, and the internet. I experiment by combining, altering, editing and reassembling using digital technology, special effects and animation to create a new kind of experience. I am interested in the poetics of time and space—to renew and transform materials, experiences and ideas. The extraordinary thing about cinema is its ability to suggest the ineffable—it is this elusive, dreamlike quality that informs my work.”

A regular figure on the gallery circuit, one can thankfully see a great of Domonkos’ work on Vimeo, by clicking here, although a certain amount of discretion is advised, as some of his work can be quite dark indeed. In general, I favor his lighter, more accessible work, gently playful in some instances, slightly sinister in others. Most of the videos are in the two to three minute range, and his works covers a wide ranges of themes and approaches.

My favorites are such videos as Sisyphus, in which a nondescript executive in a 1950s elevator is suddenly illuminated with a celestial light from above, as a mysterious rock descends through the elevator shaft to cover his face, intercut with an elderly workman clambering up and down the interior of the building, inspecting the elevator’s exterior with a flashlight. There’s no real reason for any of the images here, which is entirely the point; these things just happen in Domonkos’ world, and that’s all there is to it.

Another favorite is Dinah Soar, in which a young woman is first seen putting on makeup with the aid of a rather unusual machine, and then drives a sports car with a distinctly odd gearshift around a race track, only to be pursued by a group of racing car drivers, even as her face, at first possessed of the flawless beauty of a fashion model, gradually changes into a smoking death’s head, while mechanical wind up toys parade across the screen with childish abandon. Again, the precise meaning of these images, as well as the syntactical structure that unites them, is absolutely left up to the viewer; Domonkos creates a world in which anything is possible.

But I think that of all of Domonkos’ work, I’m drawn to those films in which the past and the present gently collide, such as Beyond The Blue Horizon. In this brief video, a 1940s Soundie (a short, pre-MTV music video) by The Three Suns is transformed into a jam session between a human space helmeted organist / vocalist, singing the title song, while two Martian (or alien) sidemen accompany him on guitar and accordion, all of which is being recorded by an unobtrusive sound man in the rear of the shot.

Domonkos’ skill is such that the entire scene seems oddly realistic, even down to the three-second “cigarette burn” cue in the upper right hand corner of the frame as the video comes to an end. All in all, it’s a very unusual world indeed, a recombinant vision that in which the past and present meld together to create a world that is at once accessible, but which operates entirely according to its own lights – a peek into a modern day Twilight Zone of found footage and digital mastery.

Bill Domonkos’ videos are unique, bizarre and deeply surreal – check them on out Vimeo.

Wheeler Winston Dixon – Thirty New Films Posted on Vimeo

Sunday, June 12th, 2016

I have thirty new films posted on Vimeo, all in digital HD.

The titles include An American Dream, Real and UnrealStill Life, Light and ShadowCaptive AudienceClosed Circuit, The Shapes of Things, Summer Storm, CityLago di Garda and Acceleration and many more. You can check them all out by clicking on the image above, or the individual links for each title. I’ve been working on these films for the past couple of years, but all were released in 2016. They range in length from a half an hour to two minutes, and cover a number of different topics and approaches. They’re ”cinepoems” in the tradition of Man Ray, gathering widely disparate images together into an often conflicting, sometimes coherent whole.

An American Dream traces the rise of late-stage capitalism in the United States, and the decline of personal interaction. Money, violence, and consumerism dominate the images here, as befits a society in which 1% of the populace control 99% of the nation’s wealth, leaving the rest of us as mere spectators. In the final analysis, An American Dream is a requiem for a society in which inequality is the new norm.

Of An American Dream, critic Peter Monaghan noted that “the film’s theme is the rise of late-stage American capitalism, and the decline of personal interaction amidst increasing attachment to money, violence, and consumerism,” while David Finkelstein wrote that “watching An American Dream, hypnotized by the beautiful motion of slowly flying fragments of glass accompanied by heavenly voices, is like washing down several Valium pills with a martini, and musing on the state of American life as you drift off into a long, imperturbable sleep.”

Of the much more optimistic Still Life, critic Jorge Orduna wrote that “the world turns. The oceans give and take their power. The trees grow, the sun rises and sets, and we all go through it daily, and yet we don’t think about it. In this collection of images, you’re forced to think about it, even if it’s only for a brief time. For 30 minutes, you see both the stillness and motion of life. Watching the film without interruption, with headphones on, you feel as though you’re in your own cocoon, and by the end, you’ll have a new appreciation for the world around you.”

I have a show coming up this Fall at the Amos Eno Gallery in New York, but you can see the films now, right here on Vimeo. But they do look better on a large screen. So if you’ve got a video projector lying around the house, try one of the longer ones, like An American Dream, Real and UnrealStill Life, or The Shapes of Things, and see what you think. Those are perhaps my favorites of the group of films, and The Shapes of Things, especially, looks fabulous when projected in a theatrical setting. So get a blanket, some lawn chairs, and set it up in the backyard, or on the rooftop – after all, they’re free – something else I like about them.

Click on the various links or the image above, and have a look.

Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet Retro at MoMA

Sunday, May 15th, 2016

Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet finally get a complete retrospective at The Museum of Modern Art.

As the program notes for the retrospective announce, “MoMA presents the first complete North American retrospective of the films of Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, who together formed one of the most intense, challenging, and controversial collaborations in the history of cinema. Straub (French, b. 1933) and Huillet (French, 1936–2006) were inseparable partners from 1954 until Huillet’s death, working intimately on every aspect of film production, from script writing to direction to editing.

Straub-Huillet created highly personal film interpretations of profoundly ambitious art: stories by Böll, Kafka, Duras, and Pavese; poems by Dante, Mallarmé, and Hölderlin; a long-forgotten Corneille play, an essay by Montaigne, a film by D. W. Griffith, a painting by Cézanne, an unfinished opera by Schöenberg; and the biography of Johann Sebastian Bach as told through the (fictionalized) letters of his wife Anna Magdalena.

They sought to make what Straub called ‘an abstract-pictorial dream’ while remaining rigorously sensitive to the letter and spirit of the text, and to the relationship between sound and image. At the same time, all of Straub-Huillet’s films are political, whether obliquely, in reflecting on the lessons of history and advancing a Marxist analysis of capitalism and class struggle; or overtly, in considering ancient and contemporary forms of imperialism, militarism, and resistance, from Ancient Rome to colonial Egypt to wartime Germany. They aspire to nothing short of a revolution in political consciousness, especially among workers and peasants, the colonized and the exploited.

At 83, Straub continues to make films that never waver from his commitment to the subversion of all forms of cinematic convention, whether through the use of direct sound, disjunctive editing, amateur actors, and a foregrounding of the natural landscape; fragmentary and elliptical narratives spoken in various languages; Brechtian estrangement; on-location shooting of ancient texts in contemporary, anachronistic settings (for example, on the ground where the Circus Maximus once stood); and a privileging of musical and poetic rhythms and structures over the decorative, the spectacular, the psychological, and the satirical. Dialogue is shorn of emotion, and images are deliberately unflashy. ‘The work we have to do,’ Straub insists, ‘is to make films which radically eliminate art, so that there is no equivocation.’

Introductions by noted Straub-Huillet collaborators take place during the retrospective’s opening weekend. Unless they are listed as 35mm, films are presented in new digital preservations overseen by Straub, Olivier Boischot, and Barbara Ulrich. The series is organized by Joshua Siegel, Curator, Department of Film.” This once in a lifetime chance to see the work of these master filmmakers, most of which is unavailable on DVD, is simply not to be missed in one is in the New York area.

My own favorites of their work include The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach (1968), starring harpsichordist Gustav Leonhardt as Bach (whom I once had the pleasure of meeting and talking with about the making of the film, after he presented an organ concert in Amsterdam); the 16mm color feature History Lessons (1972), and the 35mm short The Bridegroom, The Comedienne and The Pimp (1968), featuring a young Rainer Werner Fassbinder as the pimp, but these are just a few of their many brilliant films. A chance to see these gorgeous, transcendent films should not be passed up if at all possible.

Click here, or on the image above, to see the entire schedule for the series.

Gwendolyn Audrey Foster’s New Video – Waste (2016)

Friday, May 13th, 2016

Gwendolyn Audrey Foster’s new video is a mesmerizing look at the earth in peril.

Composed of just a few images, with a brief running time of about 5 minutes, Foster’s video conjures up visions of the ecological system in collapse, or as she puts it in her own words, the film is “a meditation on the relatively small amount of time that human beings have lived on the earth, perhaps from the point of view of a machine.

Inspirations include: Rachel Carson, John Muir, Aldous Huxley, Raymond Scott, Chantal Akerman, Michelangelo Antonioni (Red Desert and La Notte); Denis Côté (Joy of Man’s Desiring and Bestiaire); Straub-Huillet, eco-criticism, speculative science, etc. Read more here in my article “Embracing the Apocalypse: A World Without People” – see this free article download. This film is a coda to my book Hoarders, Doomsday Preppers, and the Culture of Apocalypse.”

Bruce Baillie Finally Gets A Retrospective

Sunday, April 3rd, 2016

Bruce Baillie is one of the greatest, and yet least known, of all American filmmakers.

As Manohla Dargis writes in The New York Times, “one of the most perfect films that I’ve ever seen runs a total of three minutes. Shot in 1966, Bruce Baillie’s All My Life opens on a pan of an old picket fence framed by the blue sky above and a stretch of summer-brown grass below. On the soundtrack, you can hear the crackle and hiss of an old record that’s soon filled with the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘All My Life’ in a 1936 session with the pianist Teddy Wilson.

In many respects, the image is perfectly ordinary, the kind that you chance on if you’re driving along, say, a California road, as Mr. Baillie was when he popped out of a car, seized by inspiration. Yet, as the camera continues to float left and Fitzgerald begins singing (‘All my life/I’ve been waiting for you’), something magical — call it cinema — happens in the middle of the first verse. As the words ‘my wonderful one/I’ve begun’ warm the soundtrack, a splash of red flowers on the fence suddenly appears, as if the film itself were offering you a garland.

Of course it’s Mr. Baillie, now 84, who, with artistry and sensitivity — to color, nature and a camera movement that unwinds like a scroll — found the precise moment to join that song with those flowers, a union that illuminates the sublime in the everyday. The film’s genesis, Mr. Baillie told the writer Scott MacDonald in 1989, was that Fitzgerald recording and ‘the quality of the light for three summer days’ on a stretch of Northern California coast. After days of admiring the light’s beauty, Mr. Baillie said he decided, ‘No, I cannot turn my back on this!’ By the final day, he had begun immortalizing that light with a camera, a roll of outdated Ansco film stock and a tripod.

You can watch All My Life and other Baillie films online, but don’t. If you really want to see that masterwork the way it was meant to be experienced, you should watch it in the partial retrospective of his work that begins Saturday, April 9 at the Film Society of Lincoln Center. Organized by Garbiñe Ortega, this traveling five-program series, All My Life: The Films of Bruce Baillie, includes 14 of his films dating from 1961 through 1977, as well as 13 short titles by contemporaries like Stan Brakhage, Robert Nelson and Chick Strand. In New York, the Baillie screenings, which begin April 9, are part of a larger Film Society documentary series, Art of the Real.”

Baillie has been patiently working on these films for years, and almost studiously avoided the limelight; in addition to the films that Ms. Dargis mentions, I would add several of my own favorites – Quixote (1965), Quick Billy (1968-1969), Have You Thought of Talking to The Director? (1962), Mass for the Dakota Sioux (1964), and A Hurrah for Soldiers (1963), one of the most effective and elegiac short films ever made, which Baillie describes as being “dedicated to Albert Verbrugghe, whose wife was killed in Katana by U. N. soldiers.”

Baillie’s films are simply “essential cinema” in every sense of that oft-used phrase, and the chance to see his work in a gallery setting should not be passed up, if you can possibly attend these screenings. As Baillie said of his film work, “there were ages of faith, when men made natural connections between themselves and the place in which they lived, the plants they cultivated, the fuel they used for warmth, their beasts, and their ancestors. My work will be discovering in American life those natural and ancient contacts through the art of cinema!”

Bruce Baillie – an authentic, and undervalued, poet of the cinema.

Hamilton Babylon: A History of the McMaster Film Board

Wednesday, February 17th, 2016

Stephen Broomer’s new book is a fascinating study of a lost era of truly innovative student filmmaking.

Broomer, an experimental filmmaker and scholar working in Canada, has produced a landmark volume, published by the University of Toronto Pressyou can read sections of it on Google Books, just enough to make you want to buy the entire volume – which focuses on a deeply influential student filmmaking collective in the 1960s, whose most notable founders were about as far apart aesthetically as one might imagine – future commercial filmmaker Ivan Reitman, and experimentalist and critic John Hofsess, whose split-screen color film Palace of Pleasure, which Broomer helped to restore as part of the work of this volume, is a stunning half-hour of free form, poetic cinema, which I was lucky enough to see several times at the now-defunct Filmmakers’ Cinematheque, then located in the basement of the now-demolished Wurlitzer Building on 41st Street in Manhattan, as projected by the filmmaker Bob Cowan.

The film stunned me with its beauty, romanticism, and sensual visuals, and it came at the very end of what one might call the Romantic period in 1960s experimental cinema; the next year, Michael Snow created his landmark structuralist film Wavelength, and a whole group of films made in the vein of Hofsess’s work suddenly fell by the wayside, as critics rushed to embrace this much more formalist cinema. Broomer makes no secret in this text of how he feels about this; his work as a preservationist of Hofsess’s film speaks for itself, and he clearly embraces the purely experimental art of cinema – in its freeform, and less austere incarnation – over the more commercial aspects 0f the medium.

An experimental filmmaker himself, whose works may be found on Vimeo, Broomer’s work in this volume, and as an artist in his own right, is a healthy antidote – and hopefully, an “early clue to a new direction” (to paraphrase the title of a work by the American 1960s experimental filmmaker Andrew Meyer, another deeply Romantic artist of the era) in the university study of film, which has increasingly, in our STEM era, embraced the industrial model of filmmaking over purely artistic endeavors. Obviously, Broomer’s films will never make any money, and perhaps not even get that wide distribution, but he’s not pitching to the stands – he’s making work on his own terms for those who choose to appreciate it, and I wish that others would follow his example.

As the notes for the book read, in part: “founded in 1966 at McMaster University by avant-garde filmmaker John Hofsess and future frat-comedy innovator Ivan Reitman, the McMaster Film Board was a milestone in the development of Canada’s commercial and experimental film communities. McMaster’s student film society quickly became the site of art filmmaking and an incubator for some of the country’s most famous commercial talent.

In Hamilton Babylon, Stephen Broomer traces the history of the MFB from its birth as an organization for producing and exhibiting avant-garde films, through its transformation into a commercial-industrial enterprise, and into its final decline as a show business management style suppressed many of its voices. The first book to highlight the work of Hofsess, an innovative filmmaker whose critical role in the MFB has been almost entirely eclipsed by Reitman’s legend, Hamilton Babylon is a fascinating study of the tension between art and business in the growth of the Canadian film industry.”

New Article in Senses of Cinema 76 – “Being Elizabeth Bishop”

Saturday, September 19th, 2015

I have a new article on Barbara Hammer’s new feature film Welcome to This House in Senses of Cinema.

As I write, in part, “Barbara Hammer’s Welcome to This House: A Film on Elizabeth Bishop (2015) is that rarity among documentary films – rather than the usual succession of talking heads, shot in a utilitarian fashion, as befits its subject the film is a primarily poetic project, which inhabits the world of Bishop and her poetry, entranced by the beauty of life in all its forms.

As the film’s press materials note, ‘Welcome to This House is a feature documentary film on the homes and loves of poet Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979), about life in the shadows, and the anxiety of art making without full self-disclosure, filmed in Bishop’s ‘best loved homes’ in the US, Canada, and Brazil.’ It is also much more than that; it is an act of love and resurrection, in which Bishop emerges from the shadows as a fully rounded personage, freed from the constraints of society which so often failed to accept her for who she truly was.

In the film’s opening sequence, for example, photos of Bishop and the covers of her books give way to a view from the front porch of her home in Nova Scotia, with flowers and the image of a young Elizabeth intertwined in a tapestry of memory and abstract wonder. As the scene progresses, there are equally dreamlike images of her typewriter, and then a child’s hand writing ‘Elizabeth’ on a chalk slate, as the soundtrack hums and whirs with the sounds of an indolent, mesmeric summer. This gives way to reminiscences of how Bishop was left with her grandparents as a child, deprived of a mother and father, and how she grew up in world of her own creation as a result.

There are, of course, numerous archival materials interwoven throughout the film, but more than anything, Welcome to This House is a film about being Elizabeth Bishop, about finding one’s self as an artist, something that Barbara Hammer has being doing for her entire life, over a body of work that covers more than 80 films and four decades of continuous artistic production. In many ways, Welcome to This House is the sort of film that could only be made by a director after years of patient dedication; effortlessly mixing the past, the present, the imaginary and the real to evoke the inner life of Elizabeth Bishop, all the while demonstrating Hammer’s absolutely assured grasp of the moving image.”

You can read the entire essay by clicking here, or on the image above.

Welcome To This House: A Film About Elizabeth Bishop by Barbara Hammer

Saturday, July 11th, 2015

Barbara Hammer, one of my favorite filmmakers, has a new film out.

Barbara Hammer has been making brilliant and uncompromising independent films since the 1960s, and is still going strong, as evidenced by her recent retrospectives at The Museum of Modern Art, as well as other venues, but now comes the news that Hammer has released a new feature film on the poet Elizabeth Bishop, which I have yet to see, but which I look forward to with great anticipation.

Her work is seemingly everywhere: in the past few years, Hammer was honored with a month long retrospective at The Museum of Modern Art in New York City from September 11-October 13, 2010, and in February 2012 she had a month long retrospective at The Tate Modern in London, followed by retrospectives in Paris at Jeu de Paume in June 2012 and the Toronto International Film Festival in October 2013.

As the press materials for the film by Monica Nolan note, “poet Elizabeth Bishop has gained notoriety as much for her tempestuous romance with Lota de Macedo Soares as for her poetry. While that affair inspired a book and a movie (Reaching for the Moon), this new documentary broadens the focus and puts the Lota affair in context. Frameline24 Award recipient Barbara Hammer (whose previous films at Frameline are too numerous to list!) creates a layered portrait of the person behind the poet, from her childhood in Nova Scotia to her death in 1979.

Bishop described herself as ‘timorously kicking around the coastlines of the world,’ and the film is loosely organized around her stays in Nova Scotia, Key West, Brazil, and Cambridge—the homes she made for herself and the lovers she took. Never ‘out’ as a lesbian—the concept would have been foreign to the writer who graduated from Vassar in the thirties—Bishop nonetheless actively pursued women, from her first summer-camp crush to the May-December romance that was her last affair.

Hammer examines Bishop from all angles, interviewing everyone from literary luminaries like Marie-Claire Blais and Edmund White to Lota’s aged former maid. Hammer pulls the viewer into Bishop’s world, blending present day footage of each location with archival photos, and recreating moments in the writer’s life. Throughout the film we hear Bishop’s own words, read by Kathleen Chalfant, revealing yet another facet of a complicated and passionate woman.”

Barbara Hammer (right) with Florrie Burke. Photo: Joyce Culver.

This sounds like a typically brilliant film from Hammer, who has made over 80 moving image works in a career that spans 40 years, and is considered a pioneer of queer cinema. In the meantime, you should check out Barbara Hammer’s latest doings as chronicled on her website by clicking here, or on the image above – with news of her latest doings in the world of cinema, someone who is courageously moving forward in an era in which the arts are often pushed aside by the incessant pursuit of comic book films and other non-demanding escapist entertainment. Want some real nutrition for a change? Then check out Barbara Hammer’s work, and see what you’ve been missing.

Barbara Hammer – one of the most important independent filmmakers working in cinema today.

Norman McLaren’s Pas de deux (1968) – A Forgotten Classic

Wednesday, June 24th, 2015

Norman McLaren’s classic short film Pas de deux deserves a wider audience.

Growing up, this film was everywhere, and now it seems to have vanished from our collective memory. It’s a superb short film by the gifted animator Norman McLaren, created near the end of his long career at the National Film Board of Canada. As the NFB notes, in this hypnotic film McLaren uses “cinema effects that are all that you would expect from this master of improvisation in music and illustration. By exposing the same frames as many as ten times, the artist creates a multiple image of the ballerina and her partner (Margaret Mercier and Vincent Warren).” Pas de deux received 17 awards, including the 1969 BAFTA Award for Best Animated Film and an Academy Award nomination.

This is just another of the many, many brilliant short and feature films that have been plowed under by the relentless onslaught of mainstream multiplex fare; and while there are numerous bootleg copies of this film circulating on the web, even one with a supposedly “enhanced” music track, which one commenter rightly noted was “an insult to McLaren,” this is the original version, as uploaded by the NFB to Vimeo, and thus available to all to watch, and marvel at. Pas de deux was made near the end of the photochemical era of moving image production, and McLaren and his associates push the limits of conventional optical printing to their absolute edge in this film, which remains as entrancing as it was when first created.

There really isn’t much more to say; I’ll let the film speak for itself.

An Interview with Denis Côté – Joy of Man’s Desiring

Saturday, June 13th, 2015

I have a new interview with Canadian filmmaker Denis Côté in Senses of Cinema #75.

As I wrote, in part, “Denis Côté is a young Canadian filmmaker who has burst onto the international film scene with a group of challenging and innovative movies in the past few years. Born 16 November, 1973 in New Brunswick, Canada, Côté began his career with a group of short films, and made his first feature in 2005, Drifting States (Les états Nordiques), which won the Golden Leopard at the Locarno International Film Festival.

Since then, Côté has worked a number of commercial and/or personal projects, most notably Curling (2010), a father/daughter family drama that was exceptionally well received by audiences and critics alike; Bestiare (2012), a ‘docufiction’ – that’s my own term – film centering on the animals who populate a tourist destination zoo in Canada; Vic+Flo Saw A Bear (Vic+Flo ont vu un ours, 2013), a harrowing tale of two women trying to make it on the outside after a stint in prison, and how the world conspires against them to make redemption – at least in life – almost impossible. Vic+Flo Saw A Bear was probably Côté’s most successful film to date, and was screened at more than 90 festivals around the world.

Most recently, Côté completed the superb Joy of Man’s Desiring (aka Que ta joie demeure, 2014), which documents, after a fashion, daily life on the factory floor, as workers methodically partner with their machines to create the staples of daily existence. In all these projects, Côté offers his own unique take on concepts of narrative in his fiction films, and reportage in his documentaries, to create a series of films that are at once open-ended, mysterious, and subtly disturbing.

As of this writing, Joy of Man’s Desiring is only available on Vimeo, distributed by EyeSteelFilm. After seeing the film two or three times, I was so impressed with Côté’s audacious mixture of real events and lightly staged fictional sequences to create an entirely alternate reality that I contacted him, and asked if he would discuss the film with me; he agreed, and this interview was conducted on 4 April, 2015.

I’d like to talk with you about your most recent film, the fictionalized documentary Joy of Man’s Desiring, which for me is one of the most stunning explorations of daily factory life I’ve ever seen. So, my first question is if you’ve ever seen Godard’s British Sounds (aka See You at Mao, 1970), the only other film to my knowledge that tries to tackle the workplace in this fashion, although, in my opinion, it overloads the soundtrack with Marxist slogans and the usual Godardian intercut titles – yet the sequence on the car assembly line is really powerful. Have you seen it, and was it an influence?

I was a film critic for a decade while making short films. I have seen an enormous number of art films. When you are young, you get easily confused and overwhelmed by so many influences and desires to pay homage or copy your favorite filmmakers. But being the age I am today, having more experience and a stronger personality, I can definitely see I am not corrupted by direct influences anymore. It’s a bit of a cliché to think that filmmakers are strongly conscious about references of any sort. So, to answer your question, I am not familiar with British Sounds, but I will do my homework.

Joy of Man’s Desiring deals with blue-collar work, and with the machines that seem to dominate, and define the workplace. Indeed, the film begins with a series of trance inducing zooms in on machines that seem to rule the entire work environment. Were you introducing them as the controlling personalities?

Not being familiar with those environments, I decided to start the film with the most spectacular and fascinating point of entry: the machines and their primitive sounds. I felt the need to look at things like a four year-old would. For the first three minutes I let myself, and the viewer be amazed by the power, strength and perfection of those machines. I wanted to put the audience in a hypnotic mode right away.

As you said in another interview, you were struck by “the terrifying idea that we all have to work and eventually find serenity, rest, a sense of accomplishment.” While it’s true enough that we all – or most of us – have to work, do you think that everyone finds “serenity, rest, [and] a sense of accomplishment”? For most people in factory jobs, it seems like a continual struggle just to keep up with the machine.

I do think we can find a personal sense of realization and/or accomplishment in any type of work. It’s really easy to think that machines are evil and kill human feelings, free will and ambition. I had those preconceptions myself before entering those environments, but you would be surprised to know how many people told me they consciously look for a repetitive job all day long. They told me those are the best jobs, because you don’t have to think all day long. Nighttime is for family matters and problems! Who am I to judge such thinking? I knew my film would not be frontally political, activist or judgmental and had to be more of a hypnotic journey.”

You can read the rest of this fascinating discussion by clicking here, or on the image above.

About the Author

Wheeler Winston Dixon

Wheeler Winston Dixon, Ryan Professor of Film Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, is an internationally recognized scholar and writer of film history, theory and criticism. He is the author of thirty books and more than 100 articles on film, and appears regularly in national media outlets discussing film and culture trends. Frame by Frame is a collection of his thoughts on a number of those topics. All comments by Dixon on this blog are his own opinions.

In The National News

Wheeler Winston Dixon has been quoted by Fast Company, The New Yorker, The New York Times, the BBC, CNN, The Christian Science Monitor, US News and World Report, The Boston Globe, Entertainment Weekly, The Los Angeles Times, NPR, The PBS Newshour, USA Today and other national media outlets on digital cinema, film and related topics - see the UNL newsroom at http://news.unl.edu/news-releases/1/ for more details.

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